


I know that I'm a (pyro)Maniac

by Tkhan0



Series: Tk's Super Self Indulgent DRV3 Oneshots [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Me? Writing a relationship? whaaat, Pyromania, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tkhan0/pseuds/Tkhan0
Summary: Ouma likes to watch things go up in flames when he feels like his life is doing the same.





	I know that I'm a (pyro)Maniac

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReturnToZero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnToZero/gifts).



> This was inspired by one of ReturnToZero's saiouma drabbles, so uhh definitely check those out if you like this. 
> 
> Completely self-indulgent head canon I wanted to write where Kokichi is a pyromaniac who burns things when stressed. Not all angst for once, whaaat? Set in the middle of chapter 4, after Kokichi discovers the secret of the outside world.
> 
> *Shamelessly plugs [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdEDhMcT-sU*) I was listening to while writing this because the game it comes from is an underrated GEM*

Ever since he was a little kid Ouma has been fascinated with fire. The way the flames dance and lick hungrily at anything that approaches it. The way if you stick your finger closer to the flame of a candle it’ll jump higher in an attempt to catch you.  The way birthday candles slowly melt into a pathetic puddle of wax if you let them.

It’s an unhealthy obsession- one that has carried with him all these years. He can’t help but feel the need to indulge it every time someone tells him playing with fire is wrong. It’s not like he was an arsonist, just a guy who liked burning things. It was calming to watch something like a piece of paper or fabric go up in flames, the flames slowly traveling up the length of the item, charring it and burning it till nothing remained. Whenever there was nothing left to burn the flames simply vanished, their job complete.

It was strange to think such things existed with no other purpose than to destroy anything foolish enough to touch it. Then again, sometimes he felt like maybe that’d explain his existence.

Originally he had just been burning things out of curiosity; whenever he was left alone to his own devices- which was often- he’d take a lighter he had bought and go out back with a basket of things he wanted to see go up in flames observing how differently the fire reacted to each one. But the fire was always indiscriminate- everything was reduced to nothing but a puddle or pile of ashes by the end of it.

Over time it became more like a coping mechanism. Whenever he had a shitty day or he felt pressured all he’d have to do was take an old notebook or something of his and go out back and watch it burn. Watching the colors fade and melt into one another never failed to calm him. It was something akin to stress smoking, not that he was of legal age to smoke- though Ouma could never really stand the smell of cigarettes anyway.   

He doesn’t lose the habit, even when they’re in the domain of the killing game, and one particularly rough night he decides “to hell with it” and grabs a pack of matches from the warehouse and a large stack of papers, some blank, some of failed plans and designs, along with a blank notebook for good measure, and heads to the courtyard.

He finds a spot on a hill with a nice view of the stars. They’re fake, projected on the dome like the fake mask constantly projected on his face.

He hates it. Hates this game, hates this (probably also fake) world, hates whoever is out there watching them play this game in a fake world.

But he hates himself the most. He lights a match and watches as the flame crawls up the paper before he drops it and watches it drift down before the flame finishes engulfing it. He really _is_ just like the flames he thinks, he’s about to destroy two people’s lives- two people who probably would’ve been just fine if they didn’t get involved with him.

He lights another match only to watch it for a moment and decide to toss it as far as possible down the hill. Eventually he picks up a big wad of papers and lights them on fire, trailing the smoke that rises from it up to the stars.

“Ouma-kun?” Suddenly he hears a voice clear as a bell in the silence, and he can’t help but wish it’d speak up again, without any prompting from him, just so he can hear it. He responds anyway.  “Hm, Saihara-chan?” He’s aware that he’s staring blankly at the flames, eyes transfixed at the way they leap and cast jittery shadows all over the place.

He’s out of fuel and reaches for another stack of papers before Saihara asks the one question he doesn’t want to answer. “Why are you out here burning papers?” It’s chilly out, but not uncomfortably so. Saihara comes to sit down next to him, bringing his knees up to his chest and laying his head on his arms. Ouma continues to light the papers as if he didn’t hear him at all before deciding to dodge the question entirely.

“Hey, do you really think you should be hanging out with someone so suspicious at night? Nishishi, maybe I’ll set you on fire instead!” He tries to sound convincing but he doesn’t have the energy to put any real malice in it.

“I… don’t think you would do that.” Saihara sees right through him, so Ouma decides to set the notebook he brought on fire instead. It’s slow and it takes a couple tries to get it going, but once it’s slowly but steadily burning the notebook, he shifts it so the flames begin throwing flickering shadows across Saihara’s face instead and finds himself mesmerized by the beauty of it.

“Hey, Saihara-chan, isn’t it interesting how fire burns everything it touches? Isn’t it strange such a horrible, destructive force exists in nature?”

The notebook is a charred forgotten lump on the ground now, as Ouma picks up another paper. Saihara silently watches as he continues to burn paper after paper, trying to form the proper response.  Ouma waits for his response, mindlessly. He lets the fire almost reach his fingertips now before he drops the papers.

Finally Saihara speaks up. “Well, I don’t think fire is all that bad. Fire keeps people warm doesn’t it? And it draws people together in its own way, when people sit around a campfire or fireplace to enjoy the warmth as a group.”

 Ouma takes a moment to try and come up with a good response. “Huh. I guess you’re right.” Is all he ends up saying before lighting another paper. “But don’t you think it does more damage than it does good? Lots of people’s lives get ruined by house fires and wildfires.”

“Well that may be true, but it’s not like the world would be better without fire, right? It kept humans warm and alive for centuries, and it helps us cook food and do all sorts of things to this day.”

Ouma stops to look at him, trying to read his sincerity in the small glow provided by the flaming paper he’s holding. Saihara flashes him a small, awkward smile from the sudden attention.

He’s so taken in by how genuine it is that he forgets to drop the paper before the flame reaches his fingers and he flinches at the contact, letting out a quiet “Shit!” before awkwardly flailing his hand in an attempt to fan it.

“Oh! Are you alright, Ouma-kun?”  There’s only the light from the stars now but even then he can see the concern on Saihara’s face, and his heart melts at the gesture.

“It’s fine, it was only for a second.” He answers honestly for once, and he gets a small hum of confirmation from Saihara in response. He’s about to pick up the last paper from his stack when he sees Saihara eyeing it.

“Do… do you want to try?”

“Huh?! Oh uh, y-yea, actually, if you don’t mind…” Ouma thinks he catches a bit of a blush on Saihara’s face at having been so obvious and he can’t help but giggle. “Here.” He hands Saihara the pack of matches and he fumbles with the first few attempts, but eventually lights it. He sets fire to the paper and lets it float down in front of them. They both watch as the flame slowly turns the paper into an unidentifiable charred mass. They continue to watch until the embers have all but burned out. Ouma blows the remaining ashes and enjoys the small little shower of light they provide as they drift off in different directions before resettling on the ground.

He gets up and dusts himself off. “Well that was fun, Saihara-chan!” He reaches out a hand to help Saihara up, who gratefully accepts it. “Since you entertained me, I decided I won’t set your clothes on fire after all! Nishishi, goodnight my beloved detective!” He turns and begins to skip off before Saihara can react. “Ah. Goodnight, Ouma-kun.” He hears just before he gets out of earshot, and he swears he can hear the smile in Saihara’s voice.

And despite everything, for once he goes to bed feeling much lighter.     

**Author's Note:**

> I learned the legal purchasing and smoking age in Japan is 20 by writing this lol. Was my first time writing a fic where the relationship isn't in the background (or unrequited...), yaaay. Maybe one day I'll be able to write an oumasai fic where they're actually together lmao
> 
> Hope it was fluffy enough for what it is.


End file.
